The light seemed not to have any defined source. It was a mere blur in the blackness—hardly more than a vapor. Yet it was unmistakably there.
“Keep behind me and don’t make any more noise than you can help!” warned Nick, in a scarcely audible tone.
The soft click of the lever as he slipped a cartridge into the chamber of his rifle made itself heard, and his three companions likewise prepared their weapons for use.
As they proceeded, the ground grew more open, the trees standing farther apart. Always that pale-green light was before them, becoming stronger as they advanced.
“Here we are!” breathed Nick at last, in an awestricken voice.
He was peering from behind a huge creeper-entwined tree into a large clearing. Whether this strange ring in the midst of the forest had been made purposely by man, or whether it was merely a freak of nature, none of them could tell.
One thing was evident, however, and that was that it had been used for generations for whatever hideous rites were performed there. The ground had been beaten and stamped flat, and it was so hard that it had withstood even the fierce rains that sometimes tear up the whole landscape in India.
In the center of the ring was a shapeless lump, whose character Nick could not determine, try as he would. The green light bathed it like a curious moonlight, while the silence of the place was oppressive.
“What do you make of that thing in the middle of the clearing, Chick?” asked the detective. “It seems as if it might be——”
His sentence was cut in two by another of the unearthly shrieks which seemed to come from nowhere in particular.